Monday, March 14, 2016

I like
watching the ocean. The fascinating thing about it is that it’s always
changing. You never know what you’re going to get. Then one day you get a
glimpse of its true nature and you begin to wonder. How is it possible that
everything has been like this, right in front of you, all this time, and you
never noticed? And that’s when you start to see things clearly.

1

The
ocean is green this morning and a little choppy. The wind’s picking up. The
birds are out; waders haggle over same old while seagulls circle above, talking
amongst themselves about the stupid waders haggling over bullshit down below. The
beach feels lonely today with only the waders poking about in the sand, looking
for good stuff to eat. Still, it’s all good until it starts to rain; big fat
drops plopping down onto the sand, dimpling the water, appear, startling the
birds and making me shiver. It’s going to be one of those days. And it’s only
early. Lilian will be cooking breakfast right about now so it’s time to start
my climb up the dune.

It’s
heavy going this morning so I play a little mind game. I imagine he’s already
up there, standing on the path high above, watching me, scowling under his hat.
He’s following my every step as I trudge along the sand without looking up. For
a little while but eventually I will look. Despite the sweat freezing my spine.
Despite my imagination venturing into unchartered territory in this game of What
If I imagine I like to play. What if I were a dog? A big one, with enormous,
razor-sharp teeth and the right sort of attitude? What would happen then? —Course,
if I were a dog, he’d be a werewolf. Game over.

I feel
him up there. Looking. But I won’t. Look. Not until I can’t stand it anymore,
which always happens when I’m about half way up the hill. And I’m half way up
the hill now. —Yep, he’s right there. Our eyes lock. But this time I win. He
turns and disappears up the path. Round one goes to Sarah.

I
think about him on the way home. About the game we play. I’ve not told anyone
about it. He hasn’t either. I think we both feel that there is no need for
anyone to know. Who would I tell, anyway? Lilian? She’d only worry. She might panic
and tell somebody and then what? —Exactly. I don’t want to leave Sliver Moon
Bay. It’s been good to us. We all feel it’s good here. Chris goes on about it
all the time.

‘We’ve
really become a family here,’ Chris says, with a look, a poignant one, at me,
every time.

What am
I meant to say to this? —Okay, I get it, Chris. You’re tired of my teenage
ways. I should just be the daughter I used to be. Well, dude. Things don’t work
like that anymore. On a day like this we’re as good as it’s ever going to get.

Twenty
minutes later we’re all sitting down to breakfast. Chris’s feeding Starling her
eggs while Lilian and I eat ours watching Starling eat hers. Starling’s doing a
great job smearing bits of scrambled egg around the tray of her baby chair.
It’s really cute but Lilian’s watching her with her usual expression. Worried
slash thoughtful slash whatever’s in the mix, medically speaking, at the time.
Today it looks like Valium. Lilian’s calm today so I’ll be babysitting. Again.
Ah, well. At least it’s the weekend so I won’t be missing school. Lilian’s
leaning a little too close to the baby chair. She might cop a handful of egg in
her face but my money’s on Starling behaving herself today. Today Daddy’s with
us. Starling likes to please Daddy so she won’t throw a handful of breakfast at
Mummy.

Starling’s
looking super cute this morning, smiling at Chris and me, and managing to
ignore Lilian nodding in her face with that hangdog expression. I wouldn’t
blame her if she did lose her temper but she won’t. She’s a good girl today,
sitting in her baby chair, opening her gob for Chris nice and wide. She looks
like a baby bird, snug as a bug in a rug in her nest. She is a baby bird, just
born but already pretty clued in. She’s learned the value of pity and learned
how to work it, with those bulging black eyes and that translucent skin stretched
over her big round skull topped with a handful of cotton candy hair, to get
what she wants. Yes, that’s our Starling, a bizarre super cute baby bird, the
size of a walnut but with the cunning of an old crow.

Three years old she’s not your average
toddler, but the doctor says there is nothing to worry about. She’ll grow just
fine, he says, pats her baldy head like an indulgent grandad. He’s seen plenty
of sickly little ones grow up big and strong, he tells Lilian, pats her as
well, on the back of her hand, to reassure her. I don’t think he’s having much
impact cause Lilian frets a lot, about the lack of visible improvement. Bemoans
the lack of height, weight, hair, eyelashes. Wonders about the size of the
skull. In a word she fusses,
medicated or otherwise, and it’s a burden. It’s wearing us down though Chris
bears with it most of the time. I refuse to listen. To me Starling is perfect. Always
was and always will be. She’s my star in the sky, now and forever, a little
starling knocking at my window. And I will always let her come in, for as long
as I’ll live. I suspect that years from now I will wish Lilian could have seen
it the same way, could have understood how it was going to pan out, from the
day she gave birth to her—but it wasn’t meant to be, was it? I have a feeling I
will wonder. For now it’s better to live in the present.

Starling’s
chirping about something just now. To Lilian. So Chris takes this chance to serve
me the usual. He’s going away for a few days to work on a fishing trawler so he
has a lot to say to me.

‘Be
careful at the beach with Starling, Sarah,’ he starts. ‘The surf’s going to be
rough this week.’

‘I
will be careful.’

‘It’s
gonna be windy today. A lot more windy than usual.’

‘I
know. You told me last night.’

‘Watch
out for the tide.’

‘I
will.’

‘And
don’t let her wander too close to the water. She’s not to go near it, you
understand?’

‘I get
it,’ I replied and I may have sighed. I don’t know. I don’t remember but it’s
entirely possible cause sometimes I just couldn’t help myself even though I
knew it was disrespectful and this sort of behaviour set Chris off but Chris
has said the same thing to me over and over for the past three years, every
time he’s left home to go fishing, and I always felt there was no need to
repeat himself so often.

‘Am I
boring you?’ he turned to me, pausing with Starling’s spoon in mid-air just in
front of Starling’s wide open mouth.

Well,
what am I to say to this? —Exactly. So I shook my head. Chris stared and Starling
thrust her head forward and her chin collided with the spoon. The egg
splattered on the table and speckled the front of her t-shirt, and Starling
began to cry.

‘Hope
you’re proud of yourself.’

Again,
what am I to say to this? Just then Starling raised her hands towards him,
wanting to be picked up. He pulled her from her baby chair and the two of them
disappeared into the bathroom.

It was
just me and Lilian. I could tell she’d rather have had this over and done with.
She began cleaning up the mess.

‘Don’t
worry about it, honey. He’s just nervous about leaving us.’

Well,
duh. Course he is nervous. He always acts mean before he goes away. Big deal.
We’ve had a long time to get used to it. I only wished Lilian would stop
excusing his behaviour. Chris and I never really got on and probably never
will, ever; there’s always been this tension and Lilian knew it but it wasn’t
as if she was prepared to do anything about it so why even mention it? It’s not
like I ever held a grudge; I always told her everything was cool whenever she
tried to apologize for him, just to stop her embarrassing herself. And me. So
now I said that everything was fine and Lilian gave me a hug and we went about
our business; Lilian cleaning up the breakfast things and me waiting for Chris
to go.

He
took his time. He came out of the bathroom, all sulky looking, with a sulky
looking Starling in his arms. What a pair.

‘Lilian.
Where’s the pink dress? She wants it now.’

Ah,
the pink dress. Starling’s favourite. Chris brought it for her from one of his
fishing trips a while ago. It has tiny little fishes printed all over it and
Starling fell in love with it the moment she laid eyes on it. And now she wants
it. I hope Lilian knows where it is.

But
she doesn’t. She looks up from the dishes, confused. ‘Did you look in the
basket?’

Chris
gave her a look so Lilian left the dishes and we both began looking for it.

Well,
we couldn’t find it anywhere. Starling sulked a bit but I told her I’d take her
to the beach if she wore her blue dress so she put it on and looked happy about
it. I only had to put her favourite sandals on and she was good.

Finally,
Chris leaves, after kissing Lilian once and Starling about a hundred times. At
fourteen I’m not expected to kiss him so it is just a nod and a grimace for me
accompanied by a take care and see you soon. And off he goes, with his
overnight bag and his fishing gear.

And we
can breathe. When the cat’s away…

‘Sarah-honey,
I’m gonna have a lie down for a bit, okay?’ The bedroom door closed behind her
and then it was just me and Starling. We’re going to the beach.

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